


Bloodhound, What colour are your eyes?

by Herbertholder



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Love Confessions, Other, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:53:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26251462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herbertholder/pseuds/Herbertholder
Summary: Elliott Witt walks his friend to their home.
Relationships: Bloodhound/Mirage | Elliott Witt
Comments: 3
Kudos: 55





	Bloodhound, What colour are your eyes?

Music played. The loud kind, the type you'd listen to after a breakup. Of course, Elliott Witt wouldn't know, breakups? Well… it was loud, and the whole bar vibrated to it's bass, people danced and cheered.

He had his eye set. Bloodhound, who sat in a dark crevice and read in silence. A shadow, a ghost amongst lively crowds, Elliott would never have noticed if it was  _ just _ anyone else. How their hands graced the paper softly, they would pull their mask up to sip down a cold brew and their knees would jog lightly to the rhythm of the music at each side of the chair. Elliott would pride himself, after watching, ob- obser v  _ observing,  _ he had learnt what types of music would groove their mow, dance their curve… ha… and he was right, because their fingers tapped the spine of the book and they seemed pleased. Elliott watched as he worked, as he served customers and washed dishes, and when his shift had ended? He watched some more. Just sighing in his palm, like a lovestruck teenager, as though he had never felt this way towards random women on television, he knew that once they settled down, they stayed put for ages.

"Go on."

"What do you mean?" Elliott jumped at the cold touch against his nape. _ Wraith,  _ sometimes he wished  _ he  _ had freaky prophet powers.

" _ You're  _ the dumb one, some of us are actually observant.  _ Bloodhound _ ."

Elliott knew exactly what observant meant, which was why he replied with, "No _ , you're _ dumb, I know exactly what I'm doing here."

Renee scoffed, eyebrows questioning her decisions. She muttered about life choices and the rugrats? Her heels made thuds against the wooden panels of the floor as she left him.

Elliott's decision to approach the sitting contender for his heart was one he made by himself, truly, a brave man.

  


"My my, Bloodhound." He trotted over,  _ Play it cool, Witt.  _ Bloodhound's head leant in his direction and tinted eyes rested on his figure. Not examining, not threatened, just… watching. He stood longer, chest puffed and hands on his hips, like a pigeon requesting the acquaintance of some fellow mate, and decided that he had exhausted the idea of  _ cool. _ Elliott sighed, he sat on the opposite side of a chair and cuffed his arms over the backrest. 

"What may I interest you in, Elliott?" That was a good question. He didn't- well, he  _ did  _ know, but...

"Ahah, am I not allowed to share banter with a friend?" He held the back of his neck in a hopeful and questioning smile. Bloodhound huffed an inquisitive murmur but let themselves relax nonetheless, Elliott copied. They shared something, Although  _ banter _ would always be a stretch when it came to Bloodhound. Elliott was a sure talker, an open man, but his companion would only pass necessary comments to remain a part of the conversation. 

"What about your latest championship? You're  _ nearly _ as good as me!"  _ Douche, you sound like a douche, you idiot.  _

"I did what was necessary to win." Elliott had watched replays of all their games, old and new, he was sure that they were right. 

"I mean- yeah, but you always look cool anyway," he went along with whatever left his smiling lips, Bloodhound would also smile, and Elliott could feel it radiating through their speech, it tickled the back of his throat, or perhaps that was the beer from earlier. Who cared, he was off duty now! He could get as dizzy as he wanted and regret his choices afterwards. 

Except, Elliott wasn't sure that he would. Which could feel frightening to any average man, of course, not Mirage, who played in death tournaments as a side-gig.  _ God, this is all Wraith's fault. _

Elliott flirted, fearless, fake it till ya' make it! At the least, it was hard to remember that he was talking to a person who wielded guns and hunting knives in those firm hands. To remember that Bloodhound hadn't spared so many others like they did when it came to him, but that could be seen as a bonus. So he made jokes, he complimented them and he made himself interested in the small Nordic book with the sparrow on its front. Everything that he couldn't do in front of cameras, or on a battlefield, or in a dropship and trying to feel the opposite of motion sickness amidst flight. 

Bloodhound even sounded like  _ they  _ were flirting. This was a good night.

  


"I will leave now," Bloodhound stated. Empty glasses from beverages sat on the table, Elliott had made sure that when he drank, his good side would face them. 

Now? This would be a dead end. Elliott Flirted with  _ everyone _ , was Bloodhound even thinking about this the same way he was?

"D'you care if I walk you home?" 

"Okay." Elliott grinned and he creaked out of his chair as quietly as possible, perhaps he could help Bloodhound, be a gentleman. Except, when he looked in their direction, they were standing and ready to go. Elliott followed, he enjoyed the way that Bloodhound swayed as they walked, as though still holding a heavy weapon at their side. He smirked in Renee's direction and pointed at the hawking figure that led his way, she made her fake-unamused face and turned away. 

  


As it would turn out, a tight t-shirt with short sleeves was not enough to withstand the chilling of a city night, Elliott tried his best to act _cool,_ but not _cold._ It was quiet for the most part, and when he tried to ask questions, he was given strict answers, as though in an interview. This was until they both landed on a subject that they enjoyed, a reality show? It was a boring one, Elliott had watched it while going through a _phase._ It spoke of people who would live in nature, foraging, and although the topic was Bloodhound-ish, they didn't seem like somebody who particularly enjoyed watching television. Bloodhound preferred the quiet characters, but Elliott insisted that the loud troublemakers who would sabotage other people's homes were more interesting. 

The arrival at Bloodhound's house took not long at all. A single suite at the side of the city, where the streetlights of the road didn't hit. The building looked old, with vines running down its sides and Elliott imagined that if there were plans of falling down, it would've happened a good fifty years ago.

Bloodhound's door was an oak brown, it looked heavy. With a tinted window in the middle, a looking glass beneath, Bloodhound used a silver key to unlock it. Elliott loomed in anticipation. They walked in, he stayed and held the door as though his life depended on it. Bloodhound watched, he could see their pupils blinking through the goggles, in his direction as they hung their bags on a wall. The interior was also old, which was surprising, usually even the old houses were new inside. With cream walls and candles loitering the surface, timid lights that didn't do much to brighten the weird sense that this house gave him, anxiousness, it smelt like homely spices.

Silence, only the sound of wind for a good couple of seconds. Bloodhound rolled their sleeves up, he adorned those toned arms.

"Elliott, do you want to come inside?"

"Uh- yeah. Sure." So he walked through and shut the door behind himself, it was warmer, Elliott bit at his lip as he followed Bloodhound to their living room. They excused themselves to make tea, a herb kind that smelt good. Elliott sat on their small couch, comfy and well used, with stains on it that made them seem more like a human. No television, three sockets on the walls and a big bookcase. Bloodhound seemed to enjoy cooking.

They passed small comments, more confident in their own home. Elliott watched them and felt his heart pump faster at every move they made.

  


"I feel you watching." They said eventually, but apologized for their upfront observation before he could reply. He had been caught and there was nothing left to do than laugh it off… or, well-  _ no. _ He sat upwards, hands on his denim jeans, face hidden in a smile. 

"Yeah? What're you thinking?"

Bloodhound was quiet, long moments passed before they carefully placed two mugs of tea on the small wooden table. Quiet moments, and they both looked at one other as Bloodhound loomed over the couch in front of him. 

"You don't walk your other customers home."

Who were they to know that! He was sure he would remember tons of people he had walked with by tomorrow. No one was coming up, his leg jogged in place. 

"Yeah? Well-  _ I _ don't see you in many other bars!" Oh, that was a weak reply, even for Elliott. Bloodhound hummed into their cup, it nearly sounded like a laugh and Elliott could only chuckle along, embarrassed with himself, this was more intimidating than he had expected.

"I never meant to humiliate you."

"Well," he blew out through his mouth, looking at Bloodhound's hands, they looked better without any gloves, but with scars. At their shoulders, broad. Their posture, laid back but certainly composed. This was terrible, he wanted to laugh, to joke, but he couldn't think of a word to say. Dry throat, an open mouth waiting for words.

"Well, what would you expect from me! Look at you-" Bloodhound shifted in their seat. "You're amazing!"

It felt worse as the time went on, Elliott flexed his fingers.

"I see,"

Bloodhound was also playing with their hands, rubbing at the tinted clay. They were both done with their drinks, only an empty kettle between them.

"I can only reciprocate your feelings."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I enjoy your presence, you must already know that you're a handsome man." They stood up, leant over the table, but they gripped the pottery instead of Elliott. He felt his chest compress, heart clenching. 

"So?"

"Let me wash my kitchenware."

At least they weren't kicking him out of their house, at least they hadn't rejected him. It still felt bad, and he anticipated their arrival to the point of standing to watch them clean dishes in a metallic sink with a bent tap. They finished with a hum and a wet patch in their tunic.

"Bloodhound?"

Bloodhound sighed and as they leant towards him, he fell into a wooden chair. Their hands clutched his, Elliott's face shone a bright red. They hadn't even spoken about it, about anything, this was what usually happened before he woke up alone in his bedroom! Lord, Elliott didn't want to do that tonight. He laughed at Bloodhound, whose mask was tilted to the side, he had never seen anything beyond their mouth, what colour were their eyes?

Warm hands cuffed his cheek, like a bird's, once again, rubbing circles that did nothing to calm the burning. He pulled their mask up, but still, could not tell what colour their eyes were, because they were shut and Bloodhound looked like they were ready for a kiss. Elliott decided that Bloodhound looked better without the mask, but he still enjoyed that attractive mystery when it was on. 

Unsurprisingly, they tasted like the tea that he had drank, and they were inexperienced in the talent of kissing, they had sharp teeth. It didn't last long, they muttered something in a language Elliott wished he knew and pulled their mask back down. The pale cheeks were gone, Elliott could tell that they were smiling, so he smiled alongside.

"We'll keep this a secret." not a suggestion, an order, statement. Elliott agreed, and flirted, and touched Bloodhound's arms as much as possible when he was helped back up. Bloodhound finally laughed, but only when he pulled them into a short embrace. They were very warm.

It was night, and although Elliott had never learnt to read a clock, he knew that it was either two, or twelve. That was fine, but he didn't want to sleep in this place yet, afraid that it would give Bloodhound the wrong idea. He had been through enough of that. They stood next to each other, Elliott's face was in a natural pout as he looked around the room.

"I'll see you to the door." 

Back at that door, damn. Bloodhound opened it for him, and outside, the cold sank quickly into his bones. He turned around, but Bloodhound stopped him from leaving with a firm arm around his wrist. 

"Wait here." Elliott could hear their footsteps leaving, and then gradually returning. They held a jacket, and when they arrived back at the door, they guided Elliott's arms into the warm fabric. He suddenly felt hot and he could probably use some cold on his cheeks, but nothing was working.

Elliott walked home with a renewed taste of tea in his mouth, a snack for tomorrow, and a phone number. Surprising. At least he wasn't cold, Bloodhound's jacket smelt like… well, Bloodhound.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Every time I read this, it felt worse. I have nothing to lose, so I'll post it. Supposed to be part of my collection, but it isn't moody enough.  
> I'm in the process of writing two multi-chapter fics, musician! Darksparks and angsty miragehound (might be flower lung brrr not sure yet?)  
> I'll post them weekly after they're finished.
> 
> Please leave kudos!


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